


Journalistic Integrity

by fatal_drum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Freddie, D/s, F/F, Hair-pulling, Mild Medical Kink, Spanking, Top Bedelia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: After Bedelia's return from Florence, Freddie is determined to be the one to help tell her story. Bedelia is curious to see how far she will go.





	Journalistic Integrity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for inter_spem_et_metum for the wonderful beta job, and to my friends who have been so wonderfully supportive of me and this story.

“You're not a publishing agent,” Bedelia du Maurier said flatly, fixing Freddie with an unimpressed stare from the doorway.

“I may have exaggerated a bit,” Freddie admitted, stepping closer and quietly inserting her Louboutin heel between the door and its frame. “But I still think we can help each other out. May I come in?”

Bedelia looked her up and down, eyes narrowing. “You may as well,” she said finally, with a blasé sigh.

Freddie cheered mentally as she sauntered through the doorway. The house was decorated in shades of amber and cream, rich fabrics and smooth textures creating an impression of understated elegance—much like the woman herself.

“You have a lovely home,” Freddie said, perching on an ivory settee. Her fingers traced the wooden scrollwork on the arm, an intricate pattern of knotted vines and branches.

“You aren't here to admire my décor,” Bedelia said, walking past her into the kitchen. She returned with a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses, which she set between them before settling across from Freddie in a cabriolet armchair. She raised an eloquent eyebrow at Freddie, waiting for her nod before she poured a glass for each of them.

“Thank you,” Freddie said, admiring the play of light inside the glass. She took a sip: dry, but with rich notes of vanilla and citrus. “You're right, I didn't come here to admire your décor, though I always take time to admire beautiful things.” _Like the careless fall of Doctor Du Maurier's golden hair over her shoulders, or the cool, appraising look in her eyes,_ Freddie thought to herself.

“What did you hope to accomplish, Miss Lounds?”

Freddie straightened in her chair, smoothing the folds of her skirt in her lap. “You've endured a horrific tragedy, Doctor Du Maurier. You faced the Chesapeake Ripper and lived to tell about it... but you _aren't_ telling. People are starting to speculate.”

“You want to write about my life as Hannibal Lecter's victim,” Bedelia said, with a disdainful smile.

“No, Doctor,” Freddie said with all the sincerity she could muster. “I want to write about your life as a _survivor_. Because that's what you did, isn’t it? You outsmarted one of the greatest serial killers of all time.”

Bedelia laughed dryly, taking a long sip of her wine. “If you say so.”

Freddie didn't miss the glint of interest in her eyes, however, or the way she leaned forward ever so slightly.

“I want to help you share your story, Doctor Du Maurier,” Freddie said, “before someone shares it for you.”

“I believe I'm quite capable of sharing my own story.”

“I'm sure you are. You're an incredibly intelligent woman, and I can tell you have a way with words. But I can help you _sell_ it. I know the kinds of people who read these books, and I can help you reach them.”

“You seem quite skillful at _reaching_ people—with or without their permission.”

Freddie smiled, with more than a bit of pride. “It's what I do. I consider it an honor and a privilege to help victims and survivors. _And_ to share their stories with the world.”

“That's not what Will Graham says you do.”

“You've spoken to Will Graham?” Freddie perked up. “What does he say about me?”

“He says you exploit the living and the dead alike, raking scandal and sowing discord in search of ad revenue.”

“Will and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Freddie admitted.

Bedelia's lips curled in a mocking smile. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

Freddie leaned forward, holding Bedelia's eyes with her own.

“I'm being completely serious when I say I want to help you tell your story, Doctor Du Maurier. I admire you a great deal, and I _want_ to help you write this book.”

“You mean to say, you want a share of the profits.”

“That, too. And Doctor Du Maurier, there _will_ be profits.” She reached out to squeeze Bedelia's knee. “If you give me a chance, you'll see how much I can help. Trust me when I say you'll be completely satisfied with my contributions.”

Bedelia paused, looking down at Freddie's hand on her knee, then up at Freddie's face.

“Just how far are you willing to go to assist me with my memoir?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Freddie grinned. “As far as you would like me to, Doctor Du Maurier.”

Bedelia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Freddie's eyes fixed on her lips as she said, “What if I asked you to kneel for me?”

Freddie inhaled sharply, feeling a thrill of anticipation. The air seemed to thicken around them, to grow heady with possibility, like the feeling before a storm. Eyes locked on Bedelia's, she rose from her chair and sank to her knees in front of her. The plush carpet was cool against her skin.

“You're very obedient,” Bedelia noted.

“Under the right circumstances,” Freddie said, with a coy smile.

“What if I told you to strip?”

Freddie swallowed, clenching her thighs together at the thought. Looking up at Bedelia, she lifted her fingers to the first button of her silk blouse. She knew exactly how good a picture she made: red curls set off by a cream scarf and a peacock-blue blouse with a neat bow tied around her waist. Her indigo skirt was pooled around her on the floor.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse, making a show of it as she released each button with a neat flick of her wrist. When she untied her belt, Bedelia reached out a hand expectantly. Freddie handed it to her with a flourish.

“Continue,” Bedelia said, coiling the silk over her fingers.

Freddie obeyed, shrugging out of her shirt and laying it on the chair behind her before reaching for the zipper on her skirt. She let it fall open slowly, revealing the swell of her hips one inch at a time. Once it reached her knees, she shimmied free and placed it atop the blouse. Bedelia's expression was cold, seemingly unmoved at the display, but Freddie could see the way her pupils had dilated, and the unsteady rise and fall of her chest.

The lingerie Freddie had chosen for the evening was black satin with lace trim, complete with thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. She knew the black made a shocking contrast against her creamy skin; nothing in Freddie's wardrobe was left to chance. She let her fingertips linger on the front clasp of her bra.

“This, too?” she asked, ducking her head as if in shame.

Bedelia leaned back in her chair. “We must establish a few rules in this setting,” she said.

“What kind of rules?”

“First, you will address me as _Doctor Du Maurier_ —or simply _Doctor_ , should that prove too challenging for you.”

“Yes, Doctor Du Maurier,” Freddie said, savoring the taste of the name in her mouth.

“Second, unless I have instructed you to speak, you will say only the following things: _yes_ , _no_ , _please_ , and my name. Unless you wish to stop, in which case, _stop_ will suffice.”

“Does this mean I've got the job, Doctor?”

“That depends on the quality of your performance.”

Freddie bit her lip, unable to suppress the frisson of arousal that came with surrendering her authority to the cool, composed woman in front of her.

“Continue,” Bedelia ordered.

Freddie opened the clasp of her bra, sighing as her breasts were freed from the fabric. Shrugging out of the bra, she draped it over her clothes on the chair. When she reached for her panties, Bedelia stopped her.

“Leave them for now.”

Freddie lowered her hands to her sides, looking at Bedelia for guidance.

Bedelia lowered a manicured hand to Freddie's hair, stroking the curls with deceptive gentleness. Freddie stayed still, not avoiding the touch, but not leaning into it either—until Bedelia's grip tightened, jerking her head to the side. The pain made her gasp, but Bedelia only pulled harder.

“You really have no sense of shame, do you?” Bedelia asked, looking down at her as if she were an insect to be studied. Freddie's heart raced in her chest.

“I'm afraid I never evolved to feel shame, Doctor.”

“We shall see. Stand,” she commanded, pulling Freddie's hair as she stood. Freddie scrambled to her feet, still clad in her Louboutin heels. Once she was standing, Bedelia spun her to face the table, binding her hands in front of her with the silk belt. She then reached for Freddie's scarf, folding it into a thin strip and tying it over Freddie's eyes. Freddie licked her lips as her vision receded, leaving her with only sound and touch.

“How good is your memory?”

“My memory is excellent,” she said, then added, “Doctor.”

“Where is my bedroom?”

Freddie focused, frowning behind her blindfold. A photographic memory was a gift for a woman in her field.

“The kitchen is ahead of me,” she said, gesturing to the entrance and picturing the cream-and-champagne tiles within. “The foyer is to my right. There's a hallway behind me, and I could see your office on the left. There are a few doors after that, but I doubt you'd have your bedroom so close to the common areas. So, down the hall, I imagine.”

“It is the third door on the right. Take me there.”

Freddie swallowed, mapping out the path in her head and trying to remember if there was any furniture in her way. Standing tall, she turned to face the hallway, heels sinking into the pile of the carpet.

She started tentatively—small, experimental steps with her bound hands stretched out before her, until she reached the edge of the hallway. The air smelled of jasmine and and black tea. She pictured Bedelia curled up in the sitting room with a book and a cup of Earl Grey with milk, her chin propped on one elegant hand. It was a surprisingly appealing image.

Brushing against one wall with the side of her body, she felt first one doorway, then another. Before she could reach the third, Bedelia seized her by the hips, stopping her. Freddie's heart rate sped up.

“Careful,” Bedelia said.

Freddie reached in front of her, feeling the edges of the ornamental table and the delicate curves of a ceramic vase. Her heart calmed slightly; it seemed Bedelia wasn't interested in watching her fall on her face.

Bedelia released her hips, leaving cool places on Freddie's skin where her fingers had grabbed. Taking a deep breath, Freddie skirted the table and found the door to Bedelia's bedroom. Heat traveled down her spine to pool between her thighs, undoubtedly leaving a flush on her pale skin. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“There is a bed approximately seven steps from the door. You may bend over it, feet shoulder-width apart, and await my instructions.”

Freddie shivered, opening the door and walking through. Each step made anticipation curl in her belly and her skin break out in gooseflesh. Once she felt the mattress against her thighs, she bent carefully until her torso rested on the bed, exposing her back and thighs. The duvet beneath her was feather-soft, light and silky and probably ridiculously expensive.

“You were incredibly rude earlier,” Bedelia said, trailing a hand along Freddie's spine, startling her into biting her lip. “What's to be done about that?”

“Whatever you want, Doctor.” Freddie shivered as the hand trailed lower, brushing the base of her spine. “I'm at your service.”

“Do you wish for me to stop?”

“On the contrary, Doctor—I want you to start.”

Bedelia rewarded her with a sharp swat on the ass, making her jump. She followed it with a second, and then a third in quick succession. Freddie found herself pressing against the mattress, not sure if she was trying to avoid another smack or relieve the tension building between her thighs.

“Tell me what you did that was rude,” Bedelia ordered, landing another slap on Freddie's inner thigh. Freddie moaned.

“I found your address by deceptive means,” she began, breaking off with a gasp when Bedelia pinched her ass, an unexpected new sensation that made her tingle.

“Go on,” Bedelia said evenly.

“I—I invited myself into your— _ah!_ —your home...” She stopped, panting and squirming. “ _Please!_ ”

“Please what?”

Another slap made her grind down against the bed, and she cried, “Please touch me!”

Bedelia ran a teasing hand down the curve of her ass, nails scratching a trail over the back of her thigh. Freddie whimpered.

“I _am_ touching you, Miss Lounds. Unless you would prefer something else?”

The hand disappeared, and Freddie leaned into the space where it had been, trying and failing to recoup the contact.

“God, please just touch me. My mouth, my breasts, my pussy—” She squirmed, picturing Bedelia's cold gaze on her back. “— _Please_ just touch me.”

“No.”

Freddie whined, pressing her face into the bed and writhing against the soft duvet.

“You've had a _taste_ of what you are owed—and believe me, you deserve much worse than that—but you haven't begun to earn a reward.”

“Please let me earn it, Doctor!” Freddie arched her spine. “I can be good for you. So good.”

“On the bed.”

Freddie took a deep breath to steady herself, then shimmied onto the mattress. Bedelia untied her wrists, running her fingers carefully to check for damage, before pulling them behind her back and binding them to her feet. The position forced Freddie to arch back slightly—just enough to be uncomfortable. It also left her knees splayed open, revealing the undoubtedly damp silk of her panties.

She heard a rustle of fabric, then felt the mattress dip as Bedelia climbed to sit at the head of the bed. She could smell the perfume on Bedelia's skin, a scent as cool and exotic as the woman herself.

“You may attempt to earn my favor,” Bedelia said generously, and Freddie swallowed against the wave of arousal that shot through her body.

Carefully, she nuzzled the skin closest to her: a knee. She was lying between Bedelia's spread knees, and _oh_ , if that wasn't a wonderful place to be. Freddie pressed a kiss to the tender skin inside her knee, then leaned over to kiss the other.

It was awkward, shimmying up the bed to reach her goal, and she knew Bedelia was watching her squirm and struggle. At least that meant Bedelia was _watching_. The knowledge made her skin flush hot as she pressed her mouth to Bedelia's inner thigh. The skin was soft and smooth under her lips.

She felt herself relax as she took in the clean, feminine scent of Bedelia's body. Going down on a woman was one of her favorite things in the world, next to landing a juicy, exclusive scoop. If she could do both at once, it would send her over the moon.

Her lips brushed over soft, downy curls before drifting to the ripe flesh of Bedelia's cunt. She ran her mouth lightly, teasingly down the slit, blowing gently. Bedelia's thighs clenched around her shoulders.

The first taste made her groan, licking the dripping sweetness with an eager tongue. She ran the tip of her tongue over each fold, memorizing the delicate skin with touch, taste, and scent.

Bedelia's hands clenched in her hair, pulling hard, and Freddie plunged her tongue inside with a happy moan.

She played with different rhythms, trading light, teasing licks for broad strokes of her tongue, and even a hint of teeth that made Bedelia buck against her face. Freddie pulled against her restraints, wishing she could have her hands free to pull Bedelia closer, to bury her face in her sex and taste all of her at once.

Bedelia was quiet, but the touch of her hands and the clench of her thighs spoke loudly, building with soft sighs as Freddie explored. Each tug on her hair made her mouth water as she traced Bedelia’s slick folds with her tongue.

Finally Bedelia cried out, thighs clenching hard as Freddie licked her through every last tremor. Freddie pulled back with a light kiss and leaned her head against Bedelia's thigh. The hand in her hair relaxed, stroking her curls instead of pulling. Freddie wanted to purr like a well-fed house cat.

“I see journalistic integrity has not been entirely abandoned,” Bedelia murmured.

Freddie blinked behind the blindfold, unsure if she’d heard correctly, before she realized that Bedelia had just told a _joke_. She laughed—probably too loudly—and then buried her face in Bedelia's thigh to suppress her giggle.

“I suppose you have earned a reward,” Bedelia said, moving her hand from Freddie's hair to her face. “Do you still wish for it?”

“ _God_ , yes,” Freddie panted, feeling another surge of arousal as she squirmed in her restraints.

Bedelia lifted her back onto her knees, hands and feet still bound, making her arch backward.

“Good girl,” Bedelia said softly, running a hand along Freddie's waist.

Freddie melted at the praise, leaning into the touch. A hand curled around her hip, and another tilted up her chin to meet Bedelia's waiting mouth. She tasted like chardonnay, and Freddie realized Bedelia must be tasting _herself_ on Freddie's lips. Apparently that didn't put her off, because the kiss was slow, lingering, and entirely possessive. Freddie felt herself growing wetter with every moment, shifting in a fruitless attempt to find relief.

“Apparently you _can_ be taught,” Bedelia said, releasing Freddie's face and trailing a hand down her chest. She cupped Freddie's breasts in her hands, then pinched the nipples hard enough to make her gasp. She followed the pinch by bending to suck each one into her mouth, finishing with a warm, wet lick. Freddie clenched her hands behind her back, whining high in her throat.

“Please, Doctor!”

“Please _what_ , Miss Lounds?”

“Please fuck me!” She flinched when Bedelia landed a swat on her ass. “Fuck! _Doctor_ . Please fuck me, _Doctor!_ ”

Bedelia chuckled, sliding her hand to pluck the waistband of Freddie's panties, lightly trailing a fingertip over the front. Freddie groaned and leaned into the touch, arching her back.

Finally, blissfully, Bedelia snuck a finger under the soaking wet satin, tracing her folds from front to back before pulling away.

“I think we can improve on this situation,” Bedelia said, reaching behind Freddie to untie her feet. She left Freddie's hands tied behind her back and gave her a gentle shove. She landed on her shoulder, ass in the air, as Bedelia peeled her panties down her thighs.

“Much better,” Bedelia said, sinking two fingers into Freddie's pussy.

Freddie cried out, clenching around Bedelia's fingers as she fucked her, slow and deep. She crooked her fingers against her G-spot, and Freddie swore she could see _stars_.

After a moment, Freddie felt something cold press against her ass gently, almost questioningly. Freddie pushed her hips back in answer, and Bedelia pressed the toy into her ass with careful precision.

Freddie bit her lip, squirming at the new sensation. It had been a while since she had gone there, but there was something deliciously dirty about letting Bedelia open her up, taking whatever she wanted from Freddie's body. The smooth thrusts made her ache for more, and she felt two more fingers slide to fill her pussy.

“ _Oh, my god,_ ” she managed, groaning as Bedelia picked up speed, stretching her open and fucking her mercilessly.

She lost track of what was happening after that, submerging herself in the relentless rhythm. Bedelia seemed to have a hundred hands, shoving the toy deeper into her ass, stroking the inside of her pussy, rubbing against her clit. Unable to see, she was reduced to sound and sensation, to the possessive touch of Bedelia's hands. She _screamed_ when she came, sagging against the bed as Bedelia coaxed out every last tremor.

Freddie panted against the bed, barely conscious of Bedelia untying her and wrapping her in a soft blanket. She scooped Freddie into her lap, cradling her with surprising tenderness.

“Would you like me to remove the blindfold?”

“Not yet,” Freddie murmured, her head lolling against Bedelia's shoulder.

Bedelia ran idle hands over Freddie's body, stroking her like a spoiled pet. Freddie found that she didn't mind, relaxing into the touch and finally tugging the blindfold away to see Bedelia's features lit in soft lamplight.

“Did I get the job?” she asked, stretching in satisfaction.

“I suppose I could find a worse writing partner,” Bedelia said, running her fingers through Freddie's hair.

“You were going to hire me anyway.”

Bedelia smiled like a sphinx, leaning back against the pillows and bringing Freddie with her.

“Journalistic integrity is exceedingly rare to find.”

Freddie laughed and leaned up to claim Bedelia's lips, straddling her lap and pressing her into the pillows.

 _This is going to be a beautiful collaboration,_ she decided.

_The book, too._


End file.
